I am Warrior
by twilightdazzle
Summary: The world could try and tear her down, but Katara was going to remain standing. Katara-centric. Zutara.


A/N: Soooo...I kind of just was in the mood for some girl power Avatar stuff and I sat down and wrote this in two nights. I was honestly not even mentally present for reality because I was so absorbed haha turned out to be kind of a long one, as usual when it comes to me. But yeah it's Katara centric with a little Zutara thrown in for good measure because I can't resist. I wouldn't necessarily call it an AU fic but I changed up the events and ages a bit? Hope you guys enjoy it :)

* * *

Katara was never like the other little girls in her tribe. At seven years old, she didn't spend her time playing with roughly made cloth dolls or searching for the prettiest and smoothest stones along the shore's edge to oooh and ahhh over with friends. Never did she tread lightly and daintily across the ice, careful to remain poised and graceful with her every move.

Instead, she followed Sokka faithfully out into the vast tundra, soft brown skin tinged an angry red in the frigid air and the wind conjuring biting tears from her eyes. She slipped and fell every few minutes, feet unused to the polished and completely untouched ice, banging knees and elbows and ankles against the unyielding surface on the way down. With a slightly exasperated sigh, Sokka would haul her back to her feet, adjust her parka a little bit, and then smile encouragingly at her. Sometimes, he would offer his hand to her, and she would stubbornly shake her head, long braid swinging furiously back and forth and twin dustings of embarrassment blossoming on her cheeks. She could do it herself, _would_ do it herself, and any bumps and bruises she received as a result would only be evidence of that success.

When they reached Sokka's friends, Katara watched wide eyed and intrigued as they played and practiced with their wooden, makeshift weapons. Swords, katanas, boomerangs. The young boys moved with quick, unrefined movements, but there was a strength and tenacity in every swing and throw that Katara admired so completely. Snow burst from beneath their quick feet, catching the sunlight so brilliantly that it nearly blinded her and stole her breath all at once. The chill in her bones began to slink away as she moved and jumped around in excitement, chubby cheeks flushing in laughter.

As Sokka challenged and defeated opponent after opponent, Katara would hop about on the outskirts of the group, mimicking his motions with her invisible weapon. Her presence was rarely acknowledged, but she was never blind to the looks the boys would give her: the snickering, the eye-rolling, and the condescending glares of disdain. She was eager and motivated and paid them no mind, going through all of the complicated motions until her little arms fell limp and tired at her sides and the clouds of breath bursting from her chapped lips came too often. She was content to play and dream and hope that one day she'd be as strong and fast and powerful.

There had never been a problem until one of the older boys had suddenly grown irate with her presence, viciously snatching the flimsy sword from her small hands and pushing her meanly down into the snow.

' _Girls can't handle weapons the way boys can,'_ he had said, sneering down at her crumpled form, waving the toy weapon around without finesse or practice. _'They're too weak and too small. They cry too much and they know too little. You can never be as fast or as strong. Your hands are made to sew furs and prepare food, not win battles or rule countries. You'll never be a fighter. You'll only ever be a stupid little girl.'_

Close to tears, Katara hadn't been able to respond, only let the bitter frostiness of the southern tundra bite into her skin through her thick furs. When the fury and the hurt had finally hit her, she sprang to her feet and launched a massive snowball into the angular face of the boy. Sokka tackled him to the ground, yelling furiously _'don't touch my sister'_ before proceeding to shove the boy's face into the snow.

Katara hobbled back into the village with Sokka sore and hurt and distraught. The young girl hung her head sadly, attempting to hide the tears that streaked down her dirtied cheeks, and Mama only smiled softly as she cupped her face in her gentle hands.

' _My little warrior,'_ she had whispered, thumbing away tears from Katara's cheeks as the girl sobbed and hiccupped in the privacy of their large tent. _'Strength of heart is equally as important as strength of arms. Never feel shame for your tears, Katara. Feel grateful that your soul experiences life so wholly.'_

It wasn't until later that day that she remembered to tell Mama that she hadn't even touched the snowball that she'd lobbed at that boy's face. _It moved on its own, Mama, because I wanted it to!_ Katara hadn't understood why her mother's face had suddenly lost its color and her father had kneeled before her to grasp her shoulders and order her to never, _never_ tell anyone of this precious secret. She had only nodded fearfully and glanced wide eyed at Sokka from across the tent.

Nearly a year later, when her village had been nearly destroyed by the Fire Nation's assault and they were casting her mother's lifeless body to sea, Katara thought she finally understood why they had reacted so strangely.

Tears burning acid tracks into her cheeks and Sokka's hand clutching hers too tightly, Katara watched the small canoe carrying her mother's body disappear into the blazing sunset on the horizon.

Her fists clenched furiously, and the fire in her heart blazed. _'I'll fight for you, Mama. I'll be your warrior.'_

* * *

She taught herself to waterbend. It was extremely difficult and frustrating, and she had so many questions but no one there to answer them. While the other girls her age gathered in groups to swoon over the newest and finest pelts and giggle at the boys who had not yet left to war with her father, twelve year old Katara ventured out into the unyielding tundra with Sokka by her side to practice.

Though she had little idea what the correct forms were, her heart seemed to instinctually guide her body through the movements. It was hard to judge her progress as she had nothing to compare herself to, but she practiced until her knees grew frozen and stiff and her arms hung weak and limp by her sides and Sokka had to sigh in exasperation and demand that she stop to rest. Some days, she practiced until the moon pierced the velvet black sky and the water seemed to be rushing and surging through her own veins, and this was when she knew that waterbending wasn't just an ability but a projection of her soul.

Sokka thought little of her abilities and was unafraid to vocalize it, muttering to himself about her "magic water" and constantly scowling in her direction as she twirled streams of water around her waist. Nonetheless, he followed her out to her practice area every day, ready to catch her when she fainted from exhaustion or wrap his arm protectively around her waist when she was ready to stumble back to the village.

On the rare days that her father was home and saw her approaching with a weary, dirtied form, he would worry aloud to her about whether her abilities were progressing and how, or if, if she'd be able to refine them on her own into something distinguishable and powerful. Gran Gran often agreed with his concerns, going as far as to question whether it was worth the exhaustion and pain she went through every day. _'You have a gift, Katara. That is certain,'_ she would say, her voice crackling with age. _'But, in times of war, this gift can be as much of a curse as a target on your forehead.'_

Her father eyed her pityingly, sensing the scorching desire for success that lay behind the shimmering blue of her yes, and Sokka squeezed her hand underneath the table as they ate breakfast, understanding that, despite his seemingly adverse reactions to her talent, she _needed_ to conquer this ability for herself, for her people, for Mama.

At night, beneath her thickest furs and with only the spirits to bear witness, she would let the tears spill from her eyes and wondered how long she would have to be exhausted and hurt and _doubted_ before they would understand her fighter spirit.

* * *

Prince Zuko was the first person to tell her she was unworthy as a result of her race, a factor she could help no more than a turtleduck could help being born without the ability to fly. She supposed she lived a sheltered life, never having been confronted by the stupidity that someone could hate her just from the soft caramel color of her skin and the icy blueness of her eyes, and it _fucking hurt_ to hear someone say that all the aspects of her culture that shaped her were considered "savage" outside of the Southern Water Tribe.

Savage? She wondered as she unsurely drew water from her waterskin and readied it at her hip, eyeing her opponent cautiously. Her people were kind and compassionate. They were small and their nation broken, but they lived by the principle that unity and humanity would guide them to recovery and prosperity. These were principles that could be considered honorable, yes? This is what people so often fought for, so how could anyone consider them "savage"?

" _You're_ here to protect the Avatar?" Zuko, the Fire Nation prince, the soldier, sneered incredulously, his armor glinting almost painfully in the southern sun. "Water tribe trash? A measly little girl?"

Katara glared fiercely, her fingers thrumming with the desire to whip him in the face with her water stream. He laughed haughtily, seeing fury grow in her eyes as he taunted her. His regal topknot swayed in the wind, and the stark red and black of his attire stood out too boldly and harshly against the white backdrop of her snowy home. He didn't belong here. She suddenly lashed out at him, a surge of water charging straight for his chest.

He blocked it easily, a simple flash of fire disintegrating the water into steam. His scarred face twisted into a snarl, and Katara held her ground though her heart hammered ferociously in her chest. Strong arms moved sharply and quickly, and she threw herself to the left as a blast of fire burst toward her.

"Your pathetic bending is nothing compared to my skill," he spat, bombarding her with streams of fire and heat. She dodged as fast as she could, throwing up water shields when she had the opportunity and tossing her petite body to the cold ground when she didn't. "Water scum will never have the talent of true benders. You were born for nothing but disgrace, a joke among the spirits."

She felt furious tears dance along her lashes, and her water whip caught him smartly in the face, causing a thin trail of blood to trail from his twisted lips. In a moment of accomplishment, she lost concentration and the barrage of flames increased, and she could smell the sickly smell of burning hair as a narrowly missed ball of fire grazed the end of her waist length braid. His feet moved too quickly, his arms too sharply, a soldier trained in his art, and moments later she was collapsed in the snow, chest burning and heaving rapidly, clothes singed and dirtied but chillingly damp from the snow.

He approached her with a calm sort of anger, the sun catching his face and the shaved sides of his head in a way that horribly accented the scar on the left side of his face. As he stood above her, she thought of that boy all those years ago and those words that told her she was weak, but it hurt so much more now.

Zuko suddenly stopped and hesitated as he eyed her fallen figure, several emotions crossing his face that she could not place. With a sudden surge of energy and fury, she sent a wall of snow crashing down onto his head, and she ran, his words nipping at her heels and stabbing at her heart.

Later, after she, Sokka, and Aang had left the Southern Water Tribe to venture north, Sokka gathered her into his arms, and she let it _hurt_.

Zuko would spit similar abuses to her in future encounters, but the first time was the only time she allowed herself to weep at the injustice done to herself and her people.

* * *

"I cannot teach you," Master Pakku said, looking down at Katara's disheveled form with disinterest. "You show promise, but male benders guarantee more power, more success. You are just a girl."

No. No! Her heart was screaming in anguish. She had fought him like he wanted, and she was bleeding and aching and physically and mentally drained, but she was not done. She would not let anyone, especially not some old, sexist fool, tell her she was unworthy of training because she was not a man. Had she not met his attacks step for step? Had she not proven herself based on skill alone? Hadn't the male spectators of their duel gasped and whispered amongst themselves when Master Pakku fumbled for a split second beneath the ferocity of her assault?

"You are a master in bending but a fool to keep your world view so narrowed," Katara spat, hair falling loose and wild around her face as she tried to still the dangerous quivering of her lips and voice.

The absolute frustration and despair she felt made her body quiver and her heart clench violently. The snow grew colder and the humiliation burned brighter. This trip to the Northern Water Tribe had been for nothing. He had only agreed to the duel for his own humor, had never intended to train her even if she showed remarkable skill for her mere fourteen years. When would talent and tenacity alone be acceptable standards for judgment? When would they _see_?

Master Pakku's eyes had narrowed dangerously at her words before he suddenly froze, eyes trained intently on the ground. Confused, Katara watched as he bent to retrieve something from the snow, something blue.

Horrified, she gasped, hands flying to her throat to find her mother's necklace absent from its usual spot. She readied a water whip, prepared to snap it from his hands before he damaged it. He made no alarming movements, however, simply turning the pendant over in his aged fingers with a blank expression. For several long moments, she could see the conflict rising in his eyes, could sense a sudden turn in the winds. Standing before a man who so obviously held a flawed perception of women, in a society that encouraged patriarchal dominance, Katara felt a change rising from the pristine snow wrapped earth.

With a grimace and a clench of his fists, he sighed. "I will train you."

And so the warrior was made.

* * *

Months later, long after her fifteenth birthday, she truly began to understand that racism was an epidemic of ignorance that plagued the entire earth when false truths were reinforced through unchallenged actions and the normalization of unjustified hatred.

For so long, the only viciously demeaning words she had encountered had been those of Fire Nation soldiers. The optimist in her made her believe that there could be no other people who could believe what a large portion of the Fire Nation believed, and with Zuko suddenly becoming a member of their group, she even believed that maybe that portion was a lot smaller than she had assumed. Of course, she was wrong.

She had been so caught up in thoughts of the young prince and his complete shift in attitude toward the entire group and her in particular, that the glares from the Earth Kingdom villagers had almost gone unnoticed. Toph, with her lack of sight, completely missed these disdainful stares and was focused solely on the task of finding the market so she and Katara could return to camp with the necessities. Some of the villagers stared and whispered, marched pointedly out of her path, and made quite a show of expressing their distaste. Katara squared her shoulders and did nothing, surprised, but not really, that the Fire Nation's influence had so powerfully affected this small village on the outskirts of the forest. It was quite easy, she supposed, when no one dared to challenge the ideology of such a powerful nation.

The fruit vendor had spluttered angrily when she spoke to him, refusing to sell to a "disgusting water wench." He had called her many things after that, pointing his fingers in her face and smacking his lips disgustingly in his anger. Some villagers who had slowed their movements to observe the spectacle nodded in agreement. Katara remained calm and silent though the hurt lingered on her skin like a sickness and her fingers itched at her waterskin.

Toph, for once, had been moved to speechlessness, her jaw falling open in outraged shock and filmy grey eyes opened wide. It only lasted for a moment, though, before erupting into absolute chaos. The earthbender was positively livid, her pale face painted a bright red and curses and profanities falling from her lips so viciously that the vendor actually stumbled backwards. She grabbed one of his large purple fruits and hurled it violently into his face before shifting her hands and feet just so, and pieces of earth jutted upward and reduced his carts to splinters.

The two benders were gone before the dust could even settle. Toph had ranted and fumed the entire walk home through the words, spidery cracks erupting in the earth beneath her bare feet as she stomped.

Katara only smirked.

They didn't know she had nearly destroyed two Fire Nation ships single handedly, that she had taken on a dozen soldiers alone and won, that she had been the one to teach the avatar his waterbending but could still best him in a waterbending duel, that she was going to help put an end to this war because she was a fucking warrior.

They didn't know.

* * *

Perhaps they had grown a little lax in their environmental awareness as a result of the muggy humidity in this section of the Earth Kingdom's vast forests because one second Katara had been bending water languidly down the length of her body and enjoying the feel of Zuko's burning eyes following her every movement and the next Zhao and his troops were barging into their camp site.

It all happened very quickly. Suki was the first to see them and shouted in alarm, lurching Katara, Sokka, and Zuko out of their state of muggy fatigue. They were outnumbered twenty to four; luckily Aang had volunteered to venture to the village market with Toph just twenty minutes before. Katara felt some relief knowing that he was safe from Zhao for now or would at least become aware of his presence from the scuffle that was about to ensue.

Zhao and his soldiers came in with blazing determination. Before she was even on her feet, Zuko was grasping her elbow, pulling her out of the path of a series of rapid fire darts and dragging her further into the forest. Leaves and twigs snapped beneath their pounding feet, the blood rushing thunderously in her ears. She had seen Suki and Sokka sprint in the opposite direction and prayed to the spirits that they could either escape the pursuing fire benders or defeat them. The deep timber of Zhao's voice echoed behind her, and she knew that the cruel admiral had chosen to pursue them instead of her brother and his girlfriend. She was unsure if she was relieved that they wouldn't have to face Zhao's depraved mind or horrified that she and Zuko would be subjected to his presence.

Zuko was only a foot ahead of her as they sprinted, but a stream of blazing heat surged between them and forced the in different directions. Katara had little time to worry about the prince's figure disappearing into the brush because the moment she reached a clearing among the trees, she was tackled forcefully from behind.

The air was brutally snatched from her lungs as her body collided with the solid dirt and her elbows skidded painfully across the earthy floor. The soldier made for her waterskin when they skidded to a stop, but she kicked him sharply in the nose, and he collapsed into a whimpering mess. There wasn't a single second for her to congratulate herself for utilizing Zuko's hand-to-hand combat lessons that he so desperately wanted her to learn because attack after attack was launched upon her. She drew water from her water skin, whipping and snapping and swirling it at each soldier that she encountered. When it was broken from waist with a perfectly timed fire dart, she drew water from the plants and the earth, desperately hurling it around her with deadly precision.

Where was Zuko? Were Sokka and Suki okay? Had Toph and Aang returned too early, and was Appa still wandering the forest safely?

So many concerns bombarded her as she fought, arms and feet moving rapidly and wildly, water and ice flying at a simple flick of her wrist and swipe of her hand. She knocked the fifth soldier to the ground with a simple whip to the face and was preparing to sprint in the direction she had last seen Zuko when a large hand brutally snatched her arms and forced them behind her back.

She screamed.

Zhao's heated grip on her right forearm was searing the skin from her body, and the stench of burning flesh made her stomach retch. He forced her forward, slamming her front into the thick trunk of a large tree. The bark bit smartly at her cheek, and he pressed his large body against her back.

He was too close, his body practically suffocating her and his reeking breath spilling over her hair and cheek.

"At last, the Avatar's waterbender," he sneered into her ear, his coarse black beard scratching her skin. "You are quite the…commodity among my soldiers." Katara lurched backwards, but his grip was unrelenting. "Powerful, they say, but only a woman. And quite beautiful for a water tribe whore."

Her heart battered against her ribcage, her mouth running dry as he pressed himself tighter against her and let his lips graze the shell of her ear. The burn on her arm was blistering in pain, her knees growing weak under the force of her agony.

"Can you imagine your future, Waterbender?" he rasped. "When the Avatar boy doesn't accomplish his task and the world is left under the power of Lord Ozai?" Katara gnashed her teeth and threw around her weight because that would never happen. "Can you imagine my promotion to Lord Ozai's second-in-command for catching the Avatar's entire gang, free to dispatch armies at my simple command? Imagine the first slave I would take, the waterbending filth with the beautiful eyes and the dirty skin?"

Katara finally halted her struggle, the blood in her veins running cold and sluggish as her heart clenched and stuttered. "First," Zhao continued, his tongue flicking out against her dirtied cheek disgustingly. "I would slit the throats of your pathetic brother, his whore girlfriend, and that blind bitch, let you watch their blood spill at your feet and force you clean it with your disgusting, bare hands. Then, I will take that disgrace Zuko and-"

The brown skinned waterbender was so overcome with emotion and terror that she could barely even feel the tree dying beneath her as she drew its water out into her fingertips. Dazedly, she flicked her wrists and threw her razor sharp miniature ice disks upward to dig into his forearms. He howled atrociously, throwing himself away from her to prevent the blood from pouring from his body. Taking advantage of her release, she whipped around and formed a pointed ice spike, driving it forward into his shoulder with frenzy. He emitted a noise that was a mix between a scream and a growl, collapsing backward into the earth as blood dribbled down his arm.

And she ran.

Her throat, raw with emotion and horror, tinged painfully each time she called Zuko's name. The brush swiped angrily at her legs and torso as she sprinted through the dense growth, and branches snagged in her long hair. It felt like years had passed before she heard her name being returned in the wind, and her legs stumbled when she caught sight of Zuko's disheveled figure rushing toward her. With a whimper, she launched herself into his embrace, let his strong, warm hands dance across her face and hair and arms. He asked so many questions, but she was far too beside herself to answer them, and he understood, dragging her to her feet and leading her in the direction of her brother and Suki.

Weeks after the attack, despite the fact that their entire group was safe and relatively unharmed and she had been able to completely heal the wretched burn on her arm, she experienced nightmares of the worst sort. Her unconscious mind had conjured images of her friends dead before her, eyes glossed over and blood spilling endlessly from their throats, of her hands tied by the thickest and coarsest rope and being dragged along Fire Nation streets by Zhao's unrelenting grip, of the world falling and burning with no one left to fight for it.

Ashamed, she would wake with tears in her eyes and a part of the warrior waterbender dying bit by bit inside of her. The others, with the exception of Zuko, knew nothing of what had transpired between her and Zhao, and she was reluctant to wake them with her heartache. As a fighter and a woman and a member of the Southern Water Tribe, she should have been able to conquer her shadows. But she couldn't.

So, underneath a blanket of stars and a heavy cloud of anxiety, she stumbled into Zuko's tent every night, collapsing into his waiting arms with a choking gasp, the unscarred side of his face pressing deep into her hair. They said nothing, and she let the sound of his steady beating heart calm her into easy sleep.

And she vowed that no one, _no one_ , would _ever_ harm her or her friends as long as she was alive and fighting.

* * *

When Azula's lightning had been hurdling toward her, Katara had felt achingly frozen, but when Zuko moved to intercept it, her heart was _fucking burning_.

Her scream had shattered the empty courtyard, the sight of his body broken against the lightning scorched stones coaxing out pain that poured from every inch of her skin. Azula had been positively gleeful, her manic laughter sounding like a nightmare to the waterbender's ears and the unbearable heat of the firebender's lightning causing Katara's eyes to water and chest to heave. She couldn't get to him, not matter what she did or how fast she ran she couldn't get close enough to heal him. There were many things the sixteen year old waterbender had feared in her lifetime, and, until now, she hadn't realized that the most horrifying of them all was the firebending prodigy before her.

She launched a stream of water at Azula from her waterskin, trying to make it sharper and stronger and faster than any she had directed before, but the crazed girl blocked it with a simple burst of flames. A frustrated scream rose in Katara's throat as she dodged a streak of furious lightning, forcing her further and further away from the man struggling to even rise to his hands and knees. Ducking behind a pillar, Katara bent over and let her stomach heave. Never had she been so utterly terrified. Part of the war would end with Azula's downfall, but part of her heart would end with Zuko's.

Dragging her hand sloppily across her mouth, she straightened. Her loose, chocolate waves were tumbling wildly across her shoulders and face, the blue of her dress was ripped and singed, and her hands were shaking so violently she couldn't steadily draw from her waterskin.

"Come out, come out, waterbender," Azula cruelly taunted, her high pitched voice sending violent shudders down her spine. "You would leave my dear Zuko out here to die? How common for wretched, cowardly water trash. So weak, so useless, so incredibly insignificant." Shouts and stomping boots filled her ears as a dozen or so Fire Nation soldiers entered the courtyard.

Tears dribbled from Katara's aquatic eyes, dripping from her chin with sorrow. Lightning and fire sprayed from Azula's hands, igniting the night sky with brilliant electric blues and raging reds and oranges. She thought of Aang, Toph, Sokka, Suki, and Iroh, hoped they would be successful in their mission to defeat Ozai. She thought of the rebel warriors who had also invaded the Fire Nation capital with she and Zuko, the waterbenders and earthbenders and even some firebenders. She thought of her people, devastated by war but never relinquishing hope. She thought of Zuko, the sacrifice he had made for her and the life he was barely clinging to.

Zuko. As her eyes peered around the safety of the thick stone column, she saw his lean figure flopped helplessly on the ground, his chest rising and falling only barely, the severity of his wound overcoming his tenacity. His shaggy black hair was damp with sweat, his handsome, scarred face screwed up into an expression of agony.

She could not lose him to this war and these people.

A million things ran through her mind, stampede her heart. The boy from years ago, her father's doubt, Pakku's rejection, the vendor's ignorant blindness, Zhao's depraved burning fingers, any word and action every used upon her to denounce her race, her gender, her very existence as a human being.

She could feel the water strumming through the potted plants around the open courtyard, the dampness on the roofs from a recent rain, the sweat dancing along the skin of all those present…the blood pounding, pouring, rushing inside Azula and her soldiers.

Katara's eyes snapped open. It was not a full moon tonight; she did not have the power to bloodbend – she glanced at Zuko again – but she would find it. She knew what the people would say, knew she would be criticized and ostracized and ridiculed, but the man she loved was dying on the fucking floor and she would fight _anything and anyone_ who would keep her from saving him.

With a lethal serenity, she stepped out from her hiding place, hands raised and fingers twitching. Her heart screamed that she was ready, and her soul answered.

Her fingers flicked toward the soldiers on Azula's left, grasped at the flow of blood in their veins, felt their life dancing at her fingertips, and pulled at it just enough so they would lose consciousness and collapse like nothingness to the ground. Faintly, she could hear the sound of rebels, her allies, entering the area, could feel the warm wind brushing aside her heavy mane of hair, could see the eyes of her enemies widen in horror. Her fingers flicked to the right, and seven more Fire Nation soldiers were rendered useless. Livid but amused, Azula's lips twisted into that awful deranged grin, and she began the familiar motions of her lightning formation, but Katara seized her too. Azula faltered, her arms flopped, and her lightning was broken. Like a puppet, Katara maneuvered her to the ground, her knees bent into the stones and her back arched in surrender.

The Fire Nation prodigy bowed at a peasant's feet.

No longer could the people speak of her ineptitude in her talent, her lack of prowess as a warrior. No longer could the people of the earth look down unto the water tribes and spit at them for their weakness and inferiority. The war would bow at her feet.

Katara was brought back to reality with dozens of eyes trained on her and her alone. Her allies eyed her with a mix of amazement, horror, respect, and uncertainty. The Fire Nation civilians who had not had time to escape the surrounding buildings spilled into the courtyard with looks of bewilderment and fear. They looked upon with a myriad of judgments and praises and she _didn't fucking care_.

"Restrain her," she shouted. "Now!" Two earthbenders rushed forward with clinking chains and bound the disgraced Fire Nation princess securely, tragic tears pouring down porcelain cheeks. Watching her enemy shatter before her, Katara felt no malice or satisfaction.

Katara rushed to Zuko, ignoring Azula's cries of agony and the victorious shouts of her allies, her mind ready for anguish and her heart ready for life. He was hardly breathing, the spidewebbed wound on his abdomen deep and a livid scarlet. She brought her water to his skin, poured whatever was left of her into the healing process, and begged him _'please, Zuko, please wake up.'_

When the blue glow of her hands seceded, Katara waited with baited breath, her warrior heart never fighting so fiercely and so loudly. His chest rose, and she cried to the spirits above for their kindness.

His lips claimed hers, and the battle was won.

* * *

Many years later, when she has only barely breached the age of twenty-one, the Fire Nation would bow to her again, but this time they would do so willingly.

Her marriage to Zuko is performed by Iroh in front of hundreds of citizens of the Fire Nation capital. She wears the most beautiful robes of blue and gold, and her hair tumbles down her back in dark elegant waves. Dressed in sophisticated robes of scarlet and black, Zuko smiles softly down at her, the amber of his eyes glinting blissfully. He has a full head of hair, and he looks so beautiful in his topknot that Katara wants to launch herself at him right then and there.

The day is beautiful, the sun bright and serene, multi colored flower petals drifting from above as the maids giggle and toss them from a window with glee. Before Iroh can officially finish the ceremony, Zuko yanks her into his arms and kisses her so soundly on the mouth she cries and Sokka has to be restrained by Suki before he can accost the Fire Lord for publicly attempting to "sex up" his sister. The crowd cheers and woops, and even some of the most stoic guards crack a small smile.

When Zuko finally releases her, she turns to face the crowd, smiling warmly and heart soaring. She thinks of how far they've all come, of the war that nearly destroyed nations and the people who had to learn to live and love and accept all over again. She thinks of everything they've called her in the past: trash, scum, whore, filth, peasant, witch, savior, healer, hero, warrior. She thinks of everything she's been called as of late: ally, teacher, ambassador, friend, daughter, aunt, lover.

Fire Lady.

She likes those the most.

Iroh comes to stand before her, and she bends at her knees slightly so he can press the small golden crown into her hair. When she rights herself, his hands clasp hers in affection and respect. Katara gives him a stunning smile and glances to her right. Aang smiles widely and waves. Toph is smirking. Suki is crying, one hand dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes and the other resting atop her rounded belly. Sokka's face is set very sternly but his chin wobbles and his eyes are watery and proud. Kanna and Hakoda both nod at her and smile gently, and she can see her dad's chest swelling with honor. Her eyes move to Zuko's and in his tender expression she can only understand three things: _I love you_.

"I give you Fire Lady Katara," Iroh booms over the crowd.

Like a waving breaking on the shore, the massive crowd slowly bows before her, their cheers silenced in a moment of respect for their lady. A chill of amazement saunters down her spine, and she is rendered completely breathless. They have all come so far; _she_ has come so far.

Zuko's hand squeezes hers, and he leans down so his lips can affectionately graze her ear, "My warrior queen."

The waterbender beams. Oh yes, she likes that too.


End file.
